


Wrongbound Act 1

by Sophia_Surname



Series: Wrongbound [1]
Category: FriendSim - Fandom, Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Derse and Prospit, Doomed Timeline(s) (Homestuck), Gen, SGRUB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:59:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Surname/pseuds/Sophia_Surname
Summary: 30-odd trolls play a game





	1. Prologue

Your name is IRRELEVANT. Your INTERESTS are NOT IMPORTANT TO THIS NARRATIVE. You are NOBODY in this story. You WILL HAVE PLAYED A FORGOTTEN BUT MAJOR ROLE in the alpha timeline, but here you DO NOT MATTER.

Your name is IRRELEVANT. Because you never arrived on ALTERNIA.

Maybe we should fix that.


	2. Act 1 Page 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a powerful lawyer. They shouldn't be alive.

## Tyzias Entykk

Your name is Tyzias Entykk, and you are striding through the halls of the Naughtilisk at a speed that you do not normally possess. You are on your way somewhere very important. You are holding your favorite handled ceramic goblet right side up, of course, but it’s slowing you down just enough that you’re worried you’re moving too slowly. It feels like it takes sweeps, but you finally reach the engine room/computer core and slam the door open.

The room is large and empty, save for some unattended consoles along the wall and the engine and computer core at the the center of the room. You approach at a brisk, but slower pace. You don’t want to run up to them. That’s always worrying.

You find it hard to look at the figure in front of you, but you keep your eyes on them anyway. Anything else would be disrespectful. They should have been cullbait, but you managed to protect them again and again. You managed to protect a lot of your friends. You didn’t manage to protect all of them. Poor Bronya. Poor Boldir.

Their missing eye was convenient for the cable’s installation. Even now, 6 sweeps since you were adolescents together, they look strange without their monocle. Their body is bound in the center of the room, consumed by what look like wasp’s nests all the way up to their torso. They can’t move much. But they can talk.

They shouldn’t be alive.

Neither should anyone you know, come to think of it.

Tyzias: hello, cirava.  


Cirava: hey bitch whats the ld  


Tyzias: please, hey bitch wwwwas mmmmy lusus call mmmme tyzias  


Cirava: cut the crap lmao we make that joke every time  
Cirava: i’m tired of it  
Cirava: i’m tired lmao  


Tyzias: so ammmm i, cir. wwwwe’re almmmmost done, though  


Cirava: you’ve been saying that for 2 sweeps lmao  
Cirava: i’m starting to wonder if you’ve been doing anything at all  


Tyzias: you knowwww wwwwe have to mmmmove slowwww  
Tyzias: adalov sent me the data  
Tyzias: he says he’s done and all wwwwe need to do is distribute it  


Cirava: that pretender lmao he never had as many followers as me  
Cirava: but I can handle it lmao just get me the files  
Cirava: theyll be in the computer by nightfall

You slip the prehensile digit data stick into a slot on Cirava’s casing. They twitch a little, then sigh. A slight gesture of their head tells you that it’s time to get to work on the rest of the plan. You turn on your heel without another word. Cirava knows what they have to do. You hope you know too.

As you slip out of the room, you feel a shiver run down your spine. There’s no turning back now.

There will be a revolution in this sweep.


	3. Act 1 Page 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't move. But you might be able to disable a fleet.

## Cirava Hermod

Your name is Cirava Hermod. Has been since you can remember. We already knew your name, didn’t we?

Your pronouns are they/them, which is the only thing anyone respects about you on this ship that you power and run (lmao). Well, anyone but Tyzias. She tries. And succeeds. You really begrudge her for that. You don’t think you need any pity, but she shows you that you do. You wish your arms were free to pap her sometimes. She could use a good papping. You’d never admit it, but you could use a good papping too. It's tiring being so important (lmao).

You’ve got the virus here. Though now that you’re looking over the code, it looks less like a virus than a game. You don’t give it a second thought. Well, at least not a third thought. As much as you hate to, you trust that Adalov and Tyzias know what they’re doing. Adalov’s a pain in the ass, but he knows his way around a computer, especially for a lousy cerulean blood.

It only takes you about ten minutes. As soon as you finish installing the virus, alarms start blaring. You don’t exactly panic, but you are surprised for a moment. There’s no way that they should have been able to detect that already. The ship’s systems all run through you. You would’ve known about any tracking programs. And then you realize that it isn’t because of what you just did.

It’s a proximity alarm.

Something’s coming towards your ship. A collision is imminent. A big one. Sensors detect a meteor swarm twice the size of your ship, with a centerpiece the size of a small moon. It came out of nowhere. You’re reading the reports that are being fed through your aching skull. The swarm’s trajectory seems strange; they’re moving very slowly. Sensors detect an impossible amount of energy. They’re not just meteors.

They’re bombs.

Simultaneously, you get reports that the virus is kicking in. The engines have stopped working. Weaponry is down, though from the looks of things it won’t take them long to get some of the guns back online. Enough to slow down your impending doom, but not stop it. Systems analysis suggests that you’ve got about 2 hours before everything goes to shit.

So much for the revolution. Just when you thought things were finally going to start happening, something happens (lmao).

Not much you can do about it now. Maybe the virus will at least spread to the rest of the fleet before you get killed. You’ve got all communications channels jammed with the virus’s signal, so there’s some chance of that at least. You’d sit back and wait, if you could move your spine at all. Lmao.


	4. Act 1 Page 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You move up your timetable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning, this one got more violent than I originally intended.

## Tyzias

You had barely arrived in your respiteblock for the day before the alarms started blaring. You almost sprinted from your respiteblock to the engine room to find out what Cirava had fucked up, but as always your wisdom prevailed and you recognized the proximity alarms.

As you make your way to the bridge you pull out your palmhusk and start messaging Adalov. He’s probably still asleep.

You are halfway there when you hear an anxious throat clearing. You compose your face and turn to find Her following you. She wasn’t your first choice for this position emotionally, but Adalov insisted that you had to have her on your ship for the plan to work. Doesn’t mean you have to be her friend. You signal to her to keep quiet as you lead her into an under-utilized ablution trap.

 

Tyzias: wwwwhat is it skalbi i'mmmm kind of in a rush here

Lynera: - the ship is about to be destroyed !!! is this part of the plan !!!

Tyzias: stop shouting i’mmmm right here

Lynera: - i won’t stop shouting !!! you promised no one else would have to die !!!  
Lynera: - and besides i can’t even hear myself over these alarms !!!

Tyzias: i mmmmade no such prommmmise  
Tyzias: i prommmmised that a lot of people wwwwould die  
Tyzias: it wwwwasn’t supposed to be us though

Lynera: - then Where !!! are all these Meteors !!! coming from !!!

Tyzias: is that wwwwhat this is  
Tyzias: mmmmeteors huh  
Tyzias: i thought wwwwe mmmmust be under attack  
Tyzias: i thought sommmme conquered race had gotten wwwwind of our plan and decided to take advantage of it

Lynera: - we Are under Attack !!! there’s a huge swarm of them and the weaponry is all Down !!!

Tyzias: that part is part of the plan but it wwwwasn’t supposed to happen yet  
Tyzias: the timmmming could not be wwwworse

Lynera: are you sure !!! because this is great timing for me !!!

Tyzias: wwwwe have to stay calmmmm skalbi  
Tyzias: wwwwe can find a way out of this  
Tyzias: adalov might be able to disable the virus

Lynera: - well what the Fuck should I do?

Tyzias: i don’t know, just try to stay calmmmm  
Tyzias: mmmmaybe you can do your job as mmmmorale officer  
Tyzias: pretend you’re everyone’s mmmmoirail or wwwwhatever

 

You walk away then. You hear her shouting after you but you don’t’ have time to babysit her.

The bridge is in chaos. The captain eyes are sagging as he commands the crew around, contributing almost nothing. The crew gets along just fine without him. They’re well trained…  and almost all hand-picked by you. No one on this ship except the captain is going to go against your plan. You worked for sweeps to set this up and now it’s all falling apart.

You might as well die free.

 

Tyzias: it’s timmmme

 

The oliveblood at the weapons station hesitates only an instant before doing a grand backflip from her console and landing square in front of the captain’s chair. Her hesitation is not enough to give him time to react – his reflexes are slowed. Her dagger – specially prepared for this exact exercise – pierces the seadweller’s torso. His blood, thinned by the poison you’ve had Skalbi slip him for the last 3 sweeps, spurts out faster than you’ve seen one of the cooler colors flow.

The captain finally moves to react, but a flash of Goezee’s knife severs his entire sword arm. Seadwellers aren’t supposed to be this vulnerable, but this poison was designed with the empress in mind. It worked on her (though no one but the new empress is supposed to know that) and it works even better on this violet blood.

Goezee’s knife plunges into his gut now, and blood pours out. He chokes out a curse as he grabs for the wound. Comprehension is filling his eyes. He’s been laid low by a filthy rebellion, and he didn’t even manage to take any of you out with him. You have no sympathy for his sense of failure.

She leaves that knife buried in his stomach and produces another one from her sleeves, which she uses to gouge out his eyes. That seems a little unnecessary to you, but you wouldn’t dream of telling an assassin how to do her job. You wouldn’t dream of taking away a lowblood’s vengeance like this.

One more slash, and the captain’s throat is a river of blood. Goezee pulls herself back and admires her handiwork, as the seadweller’s body twitches its last few spasms.

The bridge has ground to a halt around you. Silence settles in. You understand their shock. You share their shock. It’s finally happening, and you’re about to die. You take a calm sip from your handled ceramic goblet.

 

Tyzias: wwwwhat are you all staring at  
Tyzias: wwwwe still have those mmmmeteors to deal wwwwith  
Tyzias: let’s get back to wwwwork, free trolls  


 

Goezee stops admiring what she’s done and returns to her console. Presumably she’s trying to get weapons back up. The rest of the bridge crew hesitate a moment longer before following suit.

You would love to dramatically settle into the captain’s seat now, but removing his body from it is not a priority. Reaching Adalov is.  You pull out your husktop and message him again.


	5. Act 1 Page 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up from an unsettling but normal nap

## Mallek Adalov

Your name is Mallek Adalov and you wish you had never woken up on that moon.

If you hadn’t woken up in your second life, maybe none of this would ever have happened. Or at least, you wouldn’t have had to be at the forefront of it.

As usual, you woke up in a cold sweat in your normal body, here on the Troll Kobayashi Maru. Some oliveblood won a contest to name the vessel; the name is from an ancient dialect and means "small forest purrbeast containment cardboard".

You’d spent your night running detailed hacking schemes for the Prospit government. It’s always intense, even though the punishment from Derse these days is nominal at best. A slap on the wrist is too harsh of a phrase. Especially for a Hero like yourself.

But tonight, things got weird. Weirder. The towers on the castles began to crumble, and crashed to the ground (killing hundreds) only to be replaced with new ones. Lots of new ones. Mutated ones. Strange growths that you’re sure the populous of Derse appreciated, but that Prospitians were doing an acrobatic pirouette off the handle about. There were 33 of them that you could see just before you woke up. You had confirmed that they were sprouting on Derse as well. This must be the result of playing a game you were never meant to play.

You may have fucked it up this time, Adalov.

Your husktop is blowing off the hook. It’s all from Entykk. You open up your game client. There she is; looks like she’s in her respiteblock. Some other icons on your taskbar are flashing; they all have that same 12 part hive logo that you saw in the ruins.

 

Tyzias: adalov wwwwe need your help  
Tyzias: adalov the virus activated early  
Tyzias: howwww do wwwwe disable the virus  
Tyzias: thanks for sticking mmmme with skalbi by the wwwway  
Tyzias: real great mmmmorale officer  
Tyzias: breaks dowwwwn in a crisis  
Tyzias: adalov answwwwer  
Tyzias: are you fucking asleep again adalov  
Tyzias: revolution just started and it’s ending in 50 mmmminutes  
Tyzias: wwwwe just killed the captain  
Tyzias: the naughtilisk will be free for its last mmmmommmments  
Tyzias: wwwwhat the fuck is happening Adalov  
Tyzias: as soon as wwwwe installed your virus a mmmmeteor storm started coming at us  
Tyzias: wwwwe’ve been able to shoot mmmmost of the smmmmall ones dowwwwn but there’s nothing wwwwe can do about the big one bearing down on us  
Tyzias: the engines are dowwwwn  
Tyzias: that shouldn’t have happened until wwwwe wwwwere ready

Mallek: the virus didn’t do this; it != even a virus; it = our escape route;

Tyzias: oh there you are, it’s about timmmme adalov, thanks for being wwwwith mmmme in mmmmy final mmmmommmments nowwww wwwwhat the fuck are you talking about  
Tyzias: the escape route wwwwas phase 2

Mallek: they always were always going to = the same phase tyzias;  
Mallek: stay right where you are, I’m going to deploy some equipment;

Tyzias: deploy? wwwwhat the ----  
Tyzias: wwwwhat the fuck wwwwhere did that commmme from  
Tyzias: that wwwwasn’t a virus wwwwas it

Mallek: i already told you it wasn’t; but it = close; it = like RNA more than anything.

Tyzias: wwwwhat the fuck are you talking about

Mallek: just open up the cruxtruder;

Tyzias: wwwhat the fuck is a cruxtruder and wwwwhere did mmmmy recupracoon go

Mallek: the thing I just deployed on your goddamn spaceship now just listen to me or else we all = dead; we don’t need more doomed timelines on our hands;

Tyzias: wwwwhat the fuck is a doommmmed timeline?

Mallek: do you want to live or not; I can explain everything once you = in the medium;

Tyzias: fine, I opened the “cruxtruder”  
Tyzias: wwwwhat is this cylinder for?

Mallek: take it to the totem lathe, put it and the captchalogue card in;

Tyzias: i hate you adalov  
Tyzias: is this wwwwhat caliginous feelings are like

Mallek: now take the carved dowel to the alchemiter;

Tyzias: howwww do you knowwww all these wwwwords  
Tyzias: btwwww  
Tyzias: there’s this wwwweird  
Tyzias: orb  
Tyzias: followwwwing me around

Mallek: i know; i can see you; it = called a kernelsprite  
Mallek: i have been preparing for this for 6 sweeps, now take it to the goddamned alchemiter before you get everyone killed;  
Mallek: i have to go now, you have everything you need;

[Mallek Adalov has ceased trolling Tyzias Entykk]

Tyzias: you can see mmmme? wwwwhat the fuck?

[Mallek Adalov has started trolling Tyzias Entykk]

Mallek: one more thing;  
Mallek: throw something into the kernelsprite;

Tyzias: wwwwhat?

Mallek: before you solve the puzzle you absolutely have to throw something into the sprite;

Tyzias: wwwwhat puzzle?

Mallek: You’ll see when you finish with the alchemiter. Hurry, you don’t have much time.

[Mallek Adalov has ceased trolling Tyzias Entykk]

 

You shrink down your server window for Tyzias. She’ll figure it all out, you know. If she didn’t, things wouldn’t be getting so bad on Prospit and Derse. If she didn’t, the hoofbeast manure would hit the fan even more than it already is.

You turn your attention to the other windows. There’s Cirava. You start deploying their equipment too; pretty close to them, so they can manipulate them more easily from their suspended position. You knock open their cruxtruder for them and watch as the kernelsprite emerges.

On the bridge – there’s that assassin, Polypa. You deploy her cruxtruder too.

Just a few more – the cafeteria, the kennels, etc. Enough to cover the whole of the Naughtilisk. Now you just have to let causality make them all simultaneous. As if you have ever failed to let causality rule your life.

You message Polypa first. Chixie will take some convincing, so she’s next. In turn, you let all of them know what they have to do. Except for Cirava. They're already ahead of the game, you see.

You start establishing a secure connection with your future server player. It’ll take a few hours for the connection to establish safely, with all the relay points it has to go through. You won’t break the connection this time; you don’t have enough time anymore.

Once that’s going, you lay out your screen so you can watch everyone work. Nothing to do on your end now except wait, and watch, and hope.

But no napping.


	6. Act 1 Page 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the Naughtilisk's computer and engine. And you're about to be a whole lot more.

## Cirava

You’re not sure how you know what to do, but it seems perfectly logical. When that weird device showed up in your big empty room (lmao), and the top popped off, a dowel and an orb popped out. You use your psychic powers to lift your monocle out of your front pocket and hurl it into the kernelsprite. You were never going to be able to wear that thing again anyway.

The sprite transforms into a flat imitation of a face; your face. It’s wearing your eyepatch, unlike you. It begins spouting some gibberish that’s hard to listen to. It’s hard for you to look at too. You used to be so handsome, and now you’re this monstrosity that, and you don’t have this thought, someone from another universe might consider to resemble Locutus of Borg.

You suddenly realize that you know what to do because the game – and now you know that’s what it is, not a virus, at least not traditionally – is installed in you. You have the whole of this mess running through your blood, because you are the computer. That’s fucked up, lmao.

You suddenly realize you can integrate a whole lot more. But first….

You levitate the dowel to the totem lathe and then over to your alchemiter. As the laser scans it, your puzzle emerges. Lmao. You gotta get a fake follower count up to 3813. Grubcake walk.

You’ll get started in a second. Before you do…. You draw the kernelsprite to you with your powers. It’s a little slippery under your psychic touch. Maybe it knows what’s you’re up to. Maybe it’s just immaterial lmao. You collide with the kernelsprite, and in a flash you know so much more.

And you’re free.

You’re a free-floating version of yourself. You have your old face back – after the accident, sure, but it’s a classic look for you. With a brief flicker of thought you alter your physical form to your favorite outfit. This is some incredible power lmao. You also know things. A lot of things. That’ll give you an advantage over this game, but you also know that you’re destined to lose. You’re destined to worse than lose. Lmao.

You know too, without any special powers, that all throughout the ship, systems are shutting down. Weapons are refusing to run anymore. Their power source is gone. Life support will only last another 40 minutes now. Just enough time for the meteor to collide with the ship. And just enough time for you to solve this ridiculous puzzle.

LMAO.

 

## Mallek

You sit bolt upright when the alarms begin to ring from your husktop. You’ve lost every single connection. You try not to panic – if this weren’t how things were supposed to happen, you’d know. But this feels wrong and bad. You didn’t think things would get out of your control this quickly.

You look anxiously at the connection trying to reach your server player. It’s going to take another few hours.

The Troll Kobayashi Maru shudders around you.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck it’s early.

Proximity alarms start to blare.

You get your ass in gear. You head for Gorjek’s quarters.


	7. Act 1 Page 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the Naughtilisk's morale officer, and you have a knife.

Your name is Lynera Skalbi and you are now officially an accessory to assassination. Oh, and you’re about to die, probably.

Word that the captain was dead quickly filtered through the ship. Everyone knew it was going to happen eventually, but this seems too soon. Of course, any time would have been too soon. Without Bronya’s influence, you wouldn’t even know the word “revolution”.

And then, the power to the entire ship went out. It’s already getting colder; if the meteors don’t kill you, the lack of life support will.

You’re in the mess hall. There’s Diemen. He’s already started following Mallek’s instructions. His kernelsprite is an oblong meat product suit. There’s no one in there. It’s just an oblong meat product suit. It’s unsettling. Not as unsettling as Diemen’s puzzle, which he is going at with remarkable gusto. You’ve never seen a troll eat so many hot dogs, and you’ve had lunch with Diemen before.

Before the power went out, Mallek had told you to get back to your respiteblock. He said that he had already deployed your equipment and that you had to get there now to prototype your kernelsprite (this game seems stupid) and solve your pre-punched card’s puzzle. He said it was important to do this right away.

But you don’t really want to be alone.

Ever since you officially joined the rebellion, you have friends. Oh, Bronya’s still your best friend (even though she’s “dead”) and something more than a matesprit or a moirail, but you feel the love from all of them. Even Tyzias, who is kind of mean to you, but you can tell she’s just having fun.

You step out into the hall nervously anyway after about 20 minutes and too many oblong meat product sounds. It’s not nice to be alone – and then you see him rushing by. The pilot! Everyone’s favorite flyboy! Sure, he’s a bronzeblood, but even before the crew was replaced by Tyzias’s people he was well liked, even among the blues. The captain never once threatened to have him culled. You grab his arm as he tries to rush past.

 

Lynera: - vikare !!! come with me !!! i am doing something very important !!!

Vikare: ~Apologies old bean, I’ve got to get to my battle contraption and lay low some of the kaiser’s space rocks!~

Lynera: - what’s a kaiser?

Vikare: ~An expression, my jaded chum, for a foul foe!~  
Vikare: ~I really must be on the get-go, our fearless undauntable leader has a plan for me!~

 

And he’s gone. He should really listen to his social betters, even though in the revolution there’s no such thing as social betters and anyway Tyzias is above you in every hierarchy.

You pull out your knife as you move through the halls. Tyzias’s people won’t attack you, of course, but it’s like a security cloth thermal covering at this point. You clutch it close to your chest as you make your way through the winding hallways of this sterile and freezing ship. It feels like an eternity, but it’s going

Mallek’s instructions are easy enough that a wriggler could do it. You hope none of the idiots on this ship mess it up for you. It takes you a mere minute to get your dowel out and carved and settled on the platform. Your puzzle sprouts from the alchemiter, but before you even look at it, you head to your wardrobe. You remove the wardrobifier, and reach into the hidden compartment. You pull out your Sacred Treasure and hurl it into the kernelsprite.

You watch eagerly as the kernelsprite….  Disappears. It Your face falls. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Mallek said it was very very important, so maybe it will come back? Yeah, it’ll come back, for sure. Once you solve this puzzle. You force yourself to smile again.

You turn to the puzzle and your face falls harder than last time. So hard that it hits the ground, as does your ass, as you scramble backwards from it.

Your puzzle is shaped just like Bronya. And there’s a glowing spot on her chest where a key shines through her weird transluscent jelly flesh. Right where her heart would be. You look at your knife in your hand and drop it to the ground, where it clatters threateningly

You know exactly what you have to do. You just have to grow the bone nook to do it.

You lift your knife once more, and slowly approach the alchemiter. You’ll take all 14 minutes that you have left to do it. But you’ll do it eventually. You’ll cut the key free at some point.


	8. Act 1 Page 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a pilot. Bully for you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a short snippet to show that I am reviving this work and to celebrate the release of the final volume of Friendsim!

## Vikare Ratite

Your name is Vikare Ratite and you are currently careening through space in a modified shuttle of your own design. It may not be the greatest thrill in the universe but you could never tell that to anyone except your fearless leader, Tyzias!

You are the Naughtilisk’s last line of defense against the incoming meteors. You can only buy the ship time unfortunately, but that’s what a losing battle is all about!

Your shuttle is unfortunately cramped with all this absurd gear that mister Adalov stashed in it that you didn’t have time to get out. You had “prototyped” your “sprite” (what ridiculous terminology!) with one of your less-secret-than-they-were-planetside models of a terrestrial flying machine. You had just started the puzzle when the power went out, and you ran straight to the bridge for instructions. Ms. Goezee had control, and ordered you back to your shuttle to run interference on the meteor swarm.

As you blast the nearest meteor to the ship, you remain completely oblivious to the fact that the flight sim puzzle occupying half of your cockpit is reacting to your actual flight. You are, completely without your own knowledge, successfully navigating a winding trench. Each time you blast a fragment of the asteroid swarm out of the sky, you are blasting a holographic slime turret along the trench. A small timer counts down the distance from your destination, and you do not notice it. It is on 10 minutes.


	9. Act 1 Page 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've got the musical talent of an angel. You'll fly on those wings.

## Chixie Roixmr

Your name is Chixie Roixmr and you are currently singing a great opera into a weird gelatinous microphone in order to save your life.

You followed Mallek’s instructions to the letter. While since you met Tyzias, you’ve been loathe to listen to anyone higherblooded than her, but Mallek’s alright. Weird, sometimes scary, but mostly alright. You know you can trust him. It did take some convincing, of course. You weren’t willing to throw away your favorite boom box until he told you it was the only way to survive.

Things have been off in your life ever since the night that damned Cerulean stole so many of your songs. You have been able to tell that the universe just didn’t quite go according to plan, though you can’t put your prong on why. You being a famous musician can’t have been that important to the fabric of reality.

This isn’t where you expected to be at any point. You honestly expected to be an entertainer on the Empress’s own flagship. Well, when you were in a better mood, anyway. And when Trizza took over, you were confident that her reforms, while devastating to the general lowbloods, would put you on her flagship, the Trizzatastic.

Being an entertainer on Tyzias’s ship would have been a fair enough compromise, if you weren’t about to be destroyed by a meteor swarm. And if the effort hadn’t been doomed from the get go. A revolution in this culture?

The opera you are singing is, ironically, the tale of a bronze blood whose miraculous sprouting of wings was the spark for a failed revolution that resulted in all adults being banished from Alternia. If Tyzias’s revolution had gotten any farther than it did, who knows what could have happened? The fleets could have been scattered farther. The Condesce is clever. Was clever. Not clever enough, you guess.

You have to hit every note. It’s not difficult for you. You’ve been under more pressure.

You’ve only got 7 minutes left in the score. You sure hope Mallek’s right about this being the way to live.


	10. Act 1 Page 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems unlikely, but you've never eaten this many OBLONG MEAT PRODUCTS in your life.

## Diemen Xicali

Your name is Diemen Xicali and you must have died and gone to heaven, because there are so many dang OBLONG MEAT PRODUCTS going into your face. You’ve now eaten more than you ever did when you lived planetside. Sure, they’re weirdly gelatinous, but what good OBLONG MEAT PRODUCT isn’t?

You’ve lost count of how many OBLONG MEAT PRODUCTS you’ve eaten, but you feel like you’re right on pace with the counter. Since the Alternian record for OBLONG MEAT PRODUCT eating contests was set, by you, when you were an adolescent, and so much smaller, you shouldn’t have any trouble.

You were content to live in your bushes your whole life, honestly, but Mallek convinced you that doing this job for him was an important thing for a friend to do. So you avoided automatic culling upon reaching adulthood by presenting yourself to the recruitment board.

Burgundies are usually given truly meaningless jobs, infantry or janitorial staff. But somehow you ended up as the head of the cafeteria on the Naughtilisk. This is, according to some teal blood who keeps talking to you, the highest rank a burgundy blood has had in the space fleet in countless sweeps. According to this teal, it’s the highest rank that one has had in the entirety of the official history of the empire. She didn’t so much as drop hints that she had unofficial histories as say it outright. You wouldn’t have cared at all if she had just dropped hints, and don’t care at all as it is.

But apparently eating these hot do—OBLONG MEAT PRODUCTS is going to save your life. You’re starting to flag though; you’ve eaten so many of them you’re not sure you can do it for another 4 minutes. But that’s never stopped you before.


	11. Act 1 Page 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've just assassinated your captain. Now you have a puzzle to solve.

## Polypa Goezee

Your name is Polypa Goezee, and you have blood on your hands for the first time in sweeps. It feels good. What doesn’t feel good is the aftermath. You’re not used to staying on the scene of the crime. But you’re needed here. Mostly to solve this puzzle Mallek put on you. You only had a few minutes at your console, to arrange the batteries of weapons to automatically take out any threatening meteors.

It took you a long time of staring at your hands, smiling, to realize that it was done. You had finally killed a seadweller again. You were allowed to kill trolls again. You had spent so long as a weapons expert, leading the slaughter of aliens in the “service” of the empire, that you had almost forgotten how good it felt. To do a job correctly, with your own hands, rather than a battery of cannons that were so…  impersonal. Tyzias had even convinced you that you weren’t allowed to go onto planets or even enemy ships. She said your role was too important.

But it’s over now. You smile again at the memory of his blood flowing from him.

You weren’t always this blood thirsty. This used to just be a job for you. But apparently, it’s a little addictive. You had to go sweeps and sweeps without it. You only had your romance tomes, smuggled onto the ship in defiance of even Tyzias’s orders, to keep your pump biscuit alive.

The puzzle, however, is making you uncomfortable. It seems inexplicably familiar; an alien with anatomy that is much smaller than a troll’s, and it’s hornless, but otherwise resembles one. Its carapace is a blinding white, its head round. You tried the obvious tactic of solving the puzzle by murdering it, but it reset itself once you had bloodied it.

Its eyes look sad. Your pump biscuit thumps as you look into its eyes. You haven’t felt like this in your whole life. Why would some sad little holographic gelatinous alien make you feel like this? You feel…

Pale.

You’re so preoccupied with having to resist the urge to…  ugh…  pacify this imaginary alien that you forget Mallek’s key instruction. You forget to prototype your sprite.

None of the other bridge staff know enough about the plan to correct your behavior. They’re all trying not to stare at the bizarre flashing orb that’s making that incomprehensible sound. And trying not to watch you. And trying not to look at the captain’s corpse. Someone suggested getting it out of there, but no one has yet had the gall to pick him up and take him out. It’s not like any of them are doing much. The engines are down, and the Naughtilisk is too large to maneuver even if they weren’t. The weapons are back on, but they’re on autofire. You’re the only one in the room who could possibly do a better job with them than the computer.

One of them – a bronze – stares at your cruxtruder and announces the countdown periodically. Just to be doing something.

You have one minute left.


	12. Act 1 Page 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a space lawyer, and you're afraid for your life.

## Tagora Gorjek

Your name is Tagora Gorjek, and you’re being harassed by one of your clients. That is, one of your crew members. That is, you will admit to no one but yourself, one of your friends.

The Troll Kobyashi Maru is a nice enough ship. You’ve got excellent quarters and an even more excellent office, both with the finest décor. But if you’re being honest, you can’t wait for this plan to go through and for you to have the open sky above you again. It wasn’t until you were in space that you realized that you were claustrophobic.

Fleet chatter has started going through the roof. The Naughtilisk was one of the most important ships in the fleet. You are always astounded that Tyzias’s segment of the plan was going off so well. Hiding in plain sight seems to be the way to do things in this empire.

But then the Naughtilisk had gone quiet. No one (except, of course, for you and your compatriots) could quite tell what’s happening. The flagship – the Trizzatastic – was the nearest ship in the fleet, and it had rushed over to see what was happening. Which is not a good thing, but isn’t actively going to ruin the plan. At least not according to Adalov. You are fuming with other ideas and the terror that your little act of rebellion has finally caught up to you.

You tune back into what Adalov is saying.

 

Mallek: are you even listening to me, gorjek?

Tagora: Of course I am, you fool. Why are you so worried? *_________

Mallek: because we may have to start enacting backup plans to make it to the end of the primary plan;

Tagora: It was sarcasm, Adalov. Are you not familiar with that emotion? *_________

Mallek: sarcasm != an emotion, fucknuts;

Tagora: I am not getting into this semantic debate with you again, Adalov. You are not a legislacerator and are not even remotely on my level of discourse.  
Tagora: And besides, you are catastrophically wrong.  
Tagora: And besides that, we are on the verge of being completely obliterated by the empire for our crimes.  
Tagora: So no, Adalov, we are not going to discuss what is or is not an emotion, you pointless puerile pedant! *_________

Mallek: what the fuck;

Tagora: You expected me to keep my composure? When everything we’ve worked towards is falling apart? When Entykk’s grand master plan has failed just as it has launched and we have no way to escape being implicated? You sallow cerulean simpleton? *_________

Mallek: who the fuck bought you a word-a-day calendar;

Tagora: Do you honestly think this is a joke, Adalov? Do you think my rage is funny? Am I some kind of highblooded land dweller in your eyes?

Mallek:

Tagora: Do not say another word, you piece of shit. You have condemned me to death, and if you weren’t my friend and about to die just as horribly as myself I would exact my revenge on this very spot. *_________

Mallek: sufferer’s sake, we != doomed, you dramatic doofus;

Tagora: OH REALLY? WHAT DO YOU—

Mallek: if you would let me get a word in edgewise, you would know what i mean; sufferer’s sake man

Tagora: If we were not doomed you would not be openly flaunting your forbidden religion like so. *_________

Mallek: i will grant you that one; we = about to either die or escape so it != matter either way;  
Mallek: but we = still going to escape, gorjek; calm down and listen to me;

Tagora: Fine! *_________

 

You begin pacing around the room as Adalov explains. You are gripping your face as he tells you about the towers in his “dreams”. You can confirm this; just before you woke up, Derse was sprouting identical towers. Twisted, gnarled, not at all what they were supposed to be. They resembled your tower, in fact, but were brand new. Why is this supposed to calm you down, you wonder, but you promised you would let him talk. And then he gets to the twist.

 

Mallek: the medium removes the need for a connection; the web is ambient throughout the Incipisphere;

Mallek: when our allies arrive in the medium their connection will come right back up, and we’ll be able to resume contact;

Tagora: Then why  
Tagora: In the name of Redglare  
Tagora: Did you decide to scare the bugwinged shit out of me?! *_________

Mallek: because dipshit

Mallek: you needed to know that we might be at risk of being caught before we make our own escape; Mallek: so we need to enact our backup plans;

Tagora: You understand that once we enact any of our backup plans, there is no going back, right? *_________

Mallek: there already = no going back, tagora; we’ve gone too deep; if we try to go back, if we fail in any way, we just create another doomed timeline, and I am so sick of doomed timelines

Tagora: Doomed what nows? *_________

Mallek: don’t worry about it, space lawyer;

 

And with that, Adalov strolls out of your office.

You hate when he does that, when he just drops some nugget of obscure and essential information and then walks away. He said “doomed timelines” like they were nibble vermin who kept crawling across his nook in the night and that he had told you about again and again.

You find yourself wondering about how much you hate about Adalov. He’s your friend, but it is an awful lot of platonic hate. But there’s only room in pump biscuit for one blue blooded douchebag. Your hand wanders to your face as you think about him again.

You were never going to see your kismesis again anyway, but something about the plan being activated makes it feel final.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and pull up your contingency files. They’re all written on old parchment, as every computer system you have is bugged. Knelax can only do so much to keep the spies at bay.

You pull out plan alpha. You imagine you’ll get all the way through plan omega before this is done.

It’s go time.


	13. [S] Naughtilisk: Solve Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've all got seconds to live and puzzles to solve. Do you make it (of course you do this wouldn't be much of a story if our heroes REALLY died in the first 8000 words.
> 
> It's also not really a sound post.

The largest meteor of the swarm is bearing down on the ship. No amount of cannon fire will change its course. The engines have just kicked back on, but even if they were powerful enough, even if they had enough maneuverability, it would be too late. They only buy the Naughtilisk mere seconds. Enough seconds to sync up the countdown to collision with the countdowns on the cruxtruders.

 

### Chixie

The highest note in the score comes at the very end. You haven’t been nervous about this process the whole time, but as you approach the conclusion you open one eye. The timer is at 3 seconds. two. One.

You hit the note and everything around you glows.

 

### Diemen

You shovel the last OBLONG MEAT PRODUCT into your mouth just as the buzzer goes off.

Everything around you glows.

 

### Vikare

You find yourself outmaneuvered by the meteor swarm. These ships never respond quite the way you want them to. You have watched several other small fighters collide with meteors and burst into flame and scrap metal. Now it’s your turn, as you have nowhere to turn. You have a moment to relax and look back at the puzzle that mister Adalov set you to. The timer has matched with your impending doom, which seems fitting.

The simulation in the puzzle displays a pit directly ahead, one which some part of your brain tells you that you have to destroy.

Answering this whim, you fire one last laconic torpedo at the meteor ahead of you. It collides, and creates a very shallow pit, but you’re watching the simulation instead; the echo of the torpedo arcs into the pit and detonates.

Everything around you glows.

 

### Lynera

Cringing, you plunge the knife into the simulacrum of Bronya. It’s not her it’s not her it’s not her ---

Everything around you glows.

 

### Polypa

With a shudder, you touch the strange alien on the cheek. A warmth floods through you, and the strange alien smiles for just a moment before it fades away.

Everything around you glows.

 

### Cirava

You’re bursting with power now. It’s almost too much to handle, but you’re Cirava Hermod and nothing will stop you. Not anymore. You know that as soon as you enter the game, you’ll be bursting with far more power and knowledge than even now. You’ll have more information at your fingertips than you ever had as the Naughtilisk’s central processor, and you will have even more capacity to process it.

Your puzzle was insignificant of course. Like the game just threw it together for you, knowing it was useless to put anything in your path. It was a jigsaw puzzle that you quickly reassembled into your face. You waited to put the last piece in because the game told you that to do otherwise would’ve been disastrous. It only took you a moment to piece together that it would destroy the remaining parts if a single part of it was transported into The Medium (lmao) before the others.

To pass the time, you had decided to return some power to the ship just before impact. With an uncertain frown you had realized that this was not merely a whim but in fact key to the survival of yourself and all the others, and that the game had manipulated you into doing it without your conscious knowledge. To think it had that power over you…  You had resolved to find a way to break free of this new chain, but to tolerate it in the meantime.

And now it’s about to really start. You settle your eyepatch into the jigsaw.

Everything around you glows.

 

### Tyzias

With moments to spare, you put the finishing touches on your case against Senator Lemonsnout. It was a rote case, designed to put wannabe legislacerators through the paces of a normal prosecution. You have your own twists on the legal interpretations, that you used to practice to entertain yourself on occasion, but you managed not to include any of them. This doesn’t seem like the time for revolution, except for the parts where it does seem like the time for revolution. You have just enough time to consider whether you should have included your revolutionary ideas before you submit the proper paperwork to the gelatinous replica of Her Honorable Tyrany.

But a gelatinous gavel bangs against the gelatinous judge’s bench, and as you exhale a sigh of relief, everything around you glows.

You give a start as your reality shifts, and you have just enough time to witness a giant meteor passing through your completely intangible surroundings and body.


	14. Sweeps in the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But not many

A Daring Desecrator wanders through an ancient temple. The temple has been here a long time. He has been here a short while. He has delved into a chamber deep within the frog’s head, and here he finds a platform with a familiar pattern. This might be the closest he’s ever come to smiling.

He lays his duffel bag down with a crunch next to the panel that controls the platform. The contents of the duffel are unquestionably a corpse, but we don’t get to see what kind.


End file.
